


The Proud Man's Contumely: Alternate Scenes: Cobbleshot

by Slytherkins



Series: Alternate Scenes - PMC [3]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, F/M, Teacher-Student Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-13
Updated: 2015-10-13
Packaged: 2018-04-26 06:17:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,032
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4993447
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherkins/pseuds/Slytherkins
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It was requested, and so here it is. </p><p>Now if you will excuse me, I think I need to go take a shower and scrub the shame off me. ;)</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Proud Man's Contumely: Alternate Scenes: Cobbleshot

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [The Proud Man's Contumely](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4653705) by [Slytherkins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Slytherkins/pseuds/Slytherkins). 



Alternate Chapter 34: Though Inclination Be As Sharp As Will

“Show me,” he demanded, pulse racing. She moved back into Harry's line of sight with deliberate steps, locking eyes with him as if they were engaged in some sort of dance. Her smile was slow and mysterious, as if to say 'just wait until you see this'. Then she turned to one of the trees in front of them, letting her arms fall to her sides, palms out, closing her eyes. She inhaled deeply, throwing back her head in a manner that was almost obscene, almost sexual...and on the exhale her head snapped back up, eyes wide, and she breathed the spell.

“ _Animus_ _Secretum''_

Harry saw nothing leave her, but pieces of splintered bark burst off the surface of the tree, flying in all directions. Before they had even finished hitting the ground, Harry rushed forward to examine it. It looked as though the tree had been used for knife practice. At least a dozen shallow slashes scarred the surface; superficial, but no doubt highly uncomfortable had this been a person instead. Harry touched the scarred wood almost reverently, then turned back to Cobbleshot with bright eyes.

“You can teach me to do this?

“My Little Harry,” she whispered affectionately. “I have no doubt I can teach you to do so much more,” she purred.

Without having to be told, Harry quickly resumed his original position several paces from the tree. Cobbleshot stepped back out of sight, her eyes never leaving Harry as she went, every line of her body screaming with anticipation.

“Focus, Harry,” she instructed. “Be here only. Find your power inside you and allow it to come. Don't think about how, just give it permission. See what you would strike and remove the leash....are you ready?”

She sounded ready. She sounded almost manic.

Harry nodded, closed his eyes, took a deep breath. He reached within himself... There was the  spell he'd courted last week, full of contradiction...and power. So much of it. He greeted it like a friend.

“Be _here_ , Harry. Open your eyes. See your target.”

Harry did. He chose a spot on the tree ahead and focused, solidified his intent.

And then, he breathed.

“ _Animus_ _Secretum_ ”

Without the aid of his wand this time, the air in front of his scar began to swell with light and shadow, but it did not obstruct his vision. He felt Voldemort stir, but he filled himself with here, now, giving him no foothold. His scar burned with cold fire.

“Now, Harry!” Cobbleshot cried.

He let go. The orb shot across the distance, striking the tree and blowing a crater in its trunk the size of an apple. Splinters flew all the way back to rain over Harry where he stood, swaying. Harry's vision darkened around the edges and he felt himself falling, felt himself being caught by strong slender arms before he hit the ground. He was beyond spent and his vision swam. He was vaguely aware of spindly fingers gently stroking the hair from his brow.

“ _Perfection_ ,” Harry heard Cobbleshot whisper, a smile in her voice. And just before he lost consciousness, Harry smiled as well.  
~

Harry was still smiling as he slowly came to. The stroking sensation was nice, relaxing, making his journey back to consciousness gradual and sweet. He couldn’t remember the last time anyone had touched him so gently, had never had anyone caress his cheek that way. Or his chest.

Harry mumbled something about it being nice, was vaguely aware of the crunch of leaves as he stirred. Was he still in the woods? He seemed too warm to be outside still.

“Yes, Little One. _Very_ nice,” he heard a rough voice purr in agreement. Harry cracked open his eyes to see Cobbleshot, stretched out next to him on the ground, her face very close to his own, and he was disoriented.

“Wh-what…?” he mumbled, trying to sit up but still unable.

“Shhh,” she hushed him, stroking a hand down the length of his arm. “You did so well, My Harry. You’re going to do better still,” she whispered, bringing her face closer to his neck so that her words puffed warmly against his skin. Harry was simultaneously uncomfortable and comforted, still too foggy-headed to understand the feeling or what was happening.

Cobbleshot’s light touch drifted lower, to Harry’s stomach, and he came more to himself.

“Professor,” he stammered, lifting a hand to push hers off of him. But he was still weak and it was a half-hearted effort, because the touch _was_ so nice. He didn’t really want it to stop, despite that he didn’t want this to be happening. “I...I don’t understand,” he said weakly.

“Don’t try,” she breathed, lips brushing the side of his neck. Harry gasped softly. The situation was surreal. He didn’t even like this strange woman. But the way she was lapping at his neck was so...stimulating. His body hadn’t even fully woken from the aftereffects of the spell, and the ways in which it _was_ waking were unwelcome...but compelling. Overwhelming and uncontrollable.  

“Harry,” Cobbleshot whispered huskily in his ear, sending shivers down him and causing his eyes to drift closed. “Don’t think about it. Just open and let it come. Like the spell...Yes. This will help you become better. Don’t you want to be better? More powerful? Then relax, Harry. Don’t fight what wells within you,” she purred. “Learn to ride it.”

Harry blinked at her, trying to shake the cobwebs from his brain. But then she slowly slipped her leg over his hips, grazing his crotch as she did so, and Harry’s brain short-circuited again and he gasped.

“ _No_ ,” he panted quietly, even as his body whispered something completely different. “Professor. I don’t-”

“My friends call me Cobs,” she said, smiling down from where she straddled him, hands still stroking gently down his chest; which was heaving now, despite himself. “And we’re friends, aren’t we, Little One?” Harry couldn’t form a response. The warmth settled firmly against his reluctantly firming erection was intense.

Harry’s head felt like it was stuffed with cotton and his vision swam. He wasn’t sure how his hands came to be on her thighs, or when the buttons of her blouse had come undone. All Harry knew was he felt the smooth movement of firm muscle beneath his hands, and that he couldn’t pull his eyes from the set of surprisingly pretty breasts that were now bared and drifting closer to his face as Cobbleshot bent over him and drew his head into her arms.

Harry was instantly overwhelmed. He had never touched a breast before. They looked so soft, but they weren’t. Not really. They were far firmer than he had imagined they might be. And they were so warm against his cheek. Harry was fascinated in a detached sort of way, and he didn’t really fight Cobbleshot as she took his hand and placed it gently but insistently against the one and urged his lips toward the other.

Harry’s mouth betrayed him, tentatively latching itself around one taught nipple, discovering it liked the taste and suckling at it again before turning to try the one offered to him by his own right hand. Cobbleshot sighed, petting the back of Harry’s head, and he shuddered, fell back to the ground and brought his other hand up so that they were both occupied.

Harry’s heart tripped in his chest. He didn’t look at Cobbleshot. Not her face. Because then he would remember that he didn’t want to be doing this and why. And he wasn’t quite ready to remember yet. His cheeks burned and his head still drifted in and out of fog, but he continued to awkwardly fumble with Cobbleshot’s breasts, encouraged by one of her own hands to squeeze them tighter as she slowly and carefully began to rock her hips back and forth.   

Harry’s neck arched back with a moan and his hands forgot what they were meant to be doing. They drifted down her torso and found themselves resting on Harry’s own stomach, but the woman didn’t seem to mind. She merely bent over him and attached her mouth to his throat, making him moan again and involuntarily thrust his hips up toward her writhing heat.

It was not until her hands found the button of his trousers that Harry finally snapped out of it and brought his shaking hands to hers, looked her in the eyes. She returned his stare. It wasn’t heavy-lidded like his, but wide and bright and predatory. And very close. Harry swallowed uncomfortably. He felt...odd. Aroused but ashamed of it. Eager and reluctant at the same time. He thought he might be a little sick to his stomach. And he couldn’t understand this subtle urge to start crying.  

“Don’t fight, Harry,” she said, pulling his hands away only slightly more firmly than he struggled to keep them there. “Feel it within you,” she whispered, shifting her hips and making him squirm even as he scowled. “Let it build... _Ride_ it,” she growled quietly through clenched teeth. She sighed and tossed her head back, her shifting becoming more rhythmic as she rubbed herself on Harry’s thigh, and Harry shuddered despite himself, bit back a whimper. “Let it come out. It wants to, can’t you tell?” she asked with half a smile, looking back down at him, her dirty blond hair slipping back down into her face, brushing Harry’s cheek. She pet the front of his trousers in time with her hips, erasing his resistance, at least for the moment.

Harry simply closed his eyes and stopped resisting, allowing her to open his trousers and ignoring the sting of threatening tears. Because it felt good, no matter how much he didn’t want it to. The first brush of her fingers on his exposed length took his breath away. The first stroke of her palm up it pulled a gasp from him. The second, a small moan.

“You’re _such_ a good student,” she whispered, her own breath coming faster now. Harry tried and failed to prevent his hips from bucking into her touch. He was sweating despite the chill in the air, the cold burning his lungs as he gulped in breath.  “That’s it,” she said, excitement rising in her voice as her fingers tightened around him, wringing a string of embarrassing noises from him. He felt a single tear slide from the corner of his eye but, regardless, at the moment he wanted her hand more than he wanted it to stop. “Ride it, Harry,” she gasped, voice strained. “Let it out.”

And he did. His eyes squeezed tighter as he felt the orgasm coil in the pit of his stomach, and he sobbed quietly as it sprang from him. His eyes flew open as he pumped, gasping over Cobbleshot’s slender fingers, staring straight above him at the balding limbs of the trees overhead.

Harry was shattered, confused, now that his arousal had been sated. Cobbleshot leaned back with a sigh. Harry didn’t have to look at her to know she was grinning. He felt for a moment as if he might be ill and had to close his eyes again. He couldn’t bring himself to move or speak.

“Well done, Little One,” she said plainly, as if he’d just given a satisfactory answer in class. Harry fought back another wave of sickness, heard her whisper the scouring spell as she climbed off him. And Harry blushed, swallowing his shame as he tucked himself back in with shaking hands and closed the front of his pants. Though he wanted to, he didn’t push her away when she helped him to his feet, stroking his back in a way that was meant to be comforting but which made Harry cringe and shy away.

Harry was wondering what to do now. He had the impulse to bolt, but his feet wouldn’t comply, when she spoke again: “We’ll save the more advanced studies for next time,” she said in a low, sultry voice. Finally Harry looked over at her. Her smile was lecherous and completely without shame.

Harry shivered.

_Next time._


End file.
